


Fire and Earth

by Yalu



Category: Practical Magic (1998)
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Gen, Magic, Sisters, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/pseuds/Yalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since Maria, every Owens woman has had red or brown hair.</p><p>Written for Yuletide 2013.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strippedhalo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strippedhalo/gifts).



"Twenty-four... twenty-five... twenty-six..."

"Come on, Kylie, you can do it! WHOOOO!"

Kylie giggled and spun around even faster, squishing the grass under her toes and almost tripping over her feet as she went. Aunt Gilly was a blur of red in the sunlight, cheering and waving, a whole crowd of supporters all by herself. Kyle flung her arms out and her head back to catch the sun, and threw herself into the last few turns.

"Twenty-eight! Twenty-nine! THIRTY!"

The world kept on whirling and Kylie's braid went with it, smacking her in the face as she tried very hard to keep standing straight, then tried to keep standing at all. She could hear Aunt Gilly behind her – in front of her? – but everything was slanting even after she closed her eyes, and when she finally lost it she toppled back into Gilly, flailed, and they both went down laughing.

Aunt Gilly grinned and said, "Gotta hand it to you, you've got me beat." She flopped backwards into the grass and stretched like the cat. "Never made it past twenty-six. Well, I did a couple of times, but Sally always said it didn't count because I wobbled too far from where I started."

Kylie frowned and glanced back at the churned-up patch of grass and dirt where she'd been twirling. It looked pretty small. "But I didn't, right?"

"Nope. Wobble-free zone, promise." Gilly reached over and tugged on her braid, pulling Kylie down to join her. Kylie wriggled a bit until she could rest her head on her aunt's stomach, and draped an arm over her forehead to shade her eyes. The heat was wonderful. It made Kylie feel safe and comfortable and completely lazy. She closed her eyes, basking, and didn't have to look to know that Aunt Gilly was doing the same.

After a few minutes Aunt Gilly let out a deep sigh that Kylie could hear through her chest. "Do you think they need us in there yet?"

Kylie squinted at the house. Someone was moving in the conservatory, probably still gathering plants. "Nah. The prepping part of Aunt Maria's spell takes ages."

"Good," said Gilly, yawning happily. "They can just come get us later."

 

All the ground floor windows were open, letting the scent of summer flowers drift in to mix with the tang of fresh herbs and the waxy vapour rising from the cauldron. Well, all right, the cooking pot, but it was hard to find anyone who would call anything a cauldron anymore, except Frannie, and she mostly did it for fun. Stainless steel worked better, true, but this wasn't plan old soup they were making, so they could call it a cauldron if they liked.

Aunt Jet hummed as she stirred, watching Antonia out of the corner of her eye as the girl – twelve now, it was hard to believe – patiently chopped dried plants and ground seeds, checking the book every few minutes to make sure her measurements were right. They were, Jet knew, but she said nothing.

Sally would have, but Sally was hardly feeling up to it, poor dear. Almost three months pregnant and suffering terrible morning sickness, she was slouched over in her chair at the other end of the table, avoiding the stronger smells while stripping the leaves from the last of the fresh plants they'd be needing.

"Hey Mom? Why do we have to use a protection spell to make you not throw up anymore, anyway – why don't we use chamomile or peppermint or something and make a magic tea again?"

Sally straightened up wearily, and shared a little smile with Jet. Antonia couldn't know, of course, that Sally had asked exactly the same question years ago when she'd been carrying Kylie, but it was still endearing. In Sally's case it hadn't been a curious question so much as an angry demand; a new mother with a new house and a new husband, full of stress and out of touch with her roots, she'd waited until the nausea was unbearable before asking for help, and even then she'd expected something much quicker and more clinical than the old family spell they had offered.

Now, with another new house and another new husband, Sally was much more at peace. She handed over her shredded leaves with a smile and said, "Because it's not about me not getting sick, it's about making sure nothing I eat can make the baby sick, even if it wouldn't hurt me."

Antonia frowned, pausing halfway through mixing her crushed seeds. "Because the baby's so little? You get sick so you throw up the stuff that can hurt it?"

Sally nodded proudly, and glancing at Jet as though she might have missed it. Jet smiled quietly. "Yep, that's it," said Sally. "The body knows what it's doing, it's just a bit overprotective right now. The spell's going to keep anything even a little bit dangerous from getting to us in the first place; chamomile and peppermint wouldn't work because they just make you feel better when it's already there."

"I get it," Antonia chirped, and then she grinned, a cheeky look she was picking up from Gary and which never, ever boded well. "So if we cast it on me and Kylie too, that means we can eat as much candy as we want and never get a stomach ache."

Jet smothered a laugh as Sally's eyes bulged. "Uh... no. You're _not_ casting this on yourselves." She glanced desperately at Jet, who merrily took that moment to bend over her cauldron and carefully count out drops of oil to sprinkle in. "No way. This is not a get-out-of-jail-free card. _No_ chocolate cake for breakfast, not in this house, not in our house."

" _Mom_!"

 

In the conservatory, Gary's ears pricked up and he tilted his head, then chuckled as Sally's youngest – _his_ youngest, though not for much longer – wheedled and pleaded, trying to get her way. She wouldn't, but it would come close. He couldn't see them, not from two rooms away, but he could picture the scene perfectly. He was finally starting to get used to this place. 

"You just wait till they're sixteen."

And then there was Frannie, who could make him jump out of his boots without even trying. "Jesus, woman, don't sneak up on people like that," he said, but Fran knew better than to think he was upset at being startled, and grinning as he said it probably didn't help. She smirked. 

"Better get used to it. Owens women are very good at being sneaky."

Gary paused, eyeing her. "You're making that up," he decided. "Whenever you say 'we Owens women' nowadays you've just run out of things to say. Antonia couldn't sneak her way out of a paper bag."

"Well, maybe, but you should have seen Gillian as a teenager," Frannie confided, joining him at the table where he'd been sorting through the not-for-eating china bowls for some they could use in the spell, and put down the armful of fat white candles they'd been struggling to find earlier. "Couldn't keep her in with a binding spell, that one. Always running off to some concert or another. Do you know she used to dye her hair all the time?"

He hadn't, but it was easy to picture. He stacked four of the smaller bowls and started putting the others back in the cupboards. "What colour?"

"All of them." Frannie dusted off one of the small bowls. "Purple, blue, wild green. White, once. Never stuck, though."

"Oh?"

"There is a fifth bowl like this – over there, behind the jasmine. And no, not for more than a few days. No matter what she did, it always faded back to red." She caught his gaze and winked. "Roots win out."

There was meaning in that, Gary was sure – she had that _look_ – but he didn't know what. He still wasn't all that great at figuring out this magic stuff. He just didn't get it. The potions and all, yeah, the basics were easy enough; mix this with that and get something new. He didn't understand how baking worked either, but he could cook. That he could follow. But the things that just happened, or when they just _knew_ things? That was beyond him. But then again it was nothing if not interesting, even if he often got left feeling like he missed the punchline. Like now.

Fran smiled knowingly, but didn't say anything. She picked up her candles and made her way to the dining room, which was almost empty now except for–

"Ow! Who left the table here? Gary, would you-?"

"Just a minute." He shook his head and walked into the kitchen, setting down the bowls next to Antonia. "Say Jet, you ever think about just keeping one room totally empty, for all your spells like this? It'd save so much time moving furniture."

Sally smiled up at him, and tugged him down for a kiss. Jet "hmmm"d as she considered it. "Well, now that Sally's room is free, I suppose..."

"You're not using my room!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, dear," Jet said serenely, and Antonia giggled. Gary leaned onto the table beside her.

"You almost done there, kiddo?"

She made a face at that – and oh, God, was this the teenage thing starting already? _Shoot me now._ – but nodded and started scooping piles of shredded herbs into the bowls with her hands, picking different amounts for different bowls and sprinkling in bits and pieces from the smaller piles, only checking her book once. It'd be impressive if he knew what the hell it all meant.

"Mom, you need to go get Kylie and Aunt Gilly now," said Antonia, and waved impatiently to Jet, who was turning the heat off her pot and pulling on oven mitts. Sally forced down a smile and saluted as she stood up, but Antonia didn't see it.

 

About twenty minutes later, after he was done wrestling that gorgeous, old, damn heavy dining table into the next room and the girls had finished preparing their bowls, Gary slipped back into the room and leaned against a wall, watching as Gillian, Kylie and Fran chalked out a huge circle with a pentagram inside. One of the points was probably pointing due north or something, because Antonia was being very picky about which of her bowls was set at which corner, and the girls very nearly started fighting when Kylie pushed one aside so she could finish chalking.

Sally told them off pretty quickly and settled herself down in the middle of the circle, crossing her legs and sitting up straight. There was likely a reason for it – sending energies straight up or something – but then, it'd just seem plain wrong to let your family cast a powerful magic spell on you if you were slumped over or playing with your fingernails. Gary would have asked, and the ladies would've been happy to tell him, but Jet had taken him aside earlier and patiently explained that anything he said or did once they started could screw the whole thing, something about women's power and how men being around messed things up. He'd wheedled his way into being allowed in the room (huh, real good role model he was being – no wonder Antonia kept trying it), but that was it.

Jet, Fran, Gillian, Kylie and Antonia went and stood around the circle, each at one of the points of the star. They all had candles, unlit until they blew on them, and Gary suddenly wondered if that particular talent wasn't a fire hazard. What if the girls started doing it in their sleep?

Probably wasn't the right time for that.

So Gary settled in to watch. He'd seen the ladies work spells before, mostly little things or things they did out of habit, but they'd pulled out the old book and candles a few times, and the ceremonial stuff was always pretty much the same. There was chanting, some in simple English, a lot of it in Latin or whatever; some walking in circles, some candles, and usually some kinds of plants. What made each of them different from each other, he had no clue, but there was something compelling about it that drew him in to watch.

"From earth, our mother, our cradle, we grow," said Jet, leading the incantation. "These are our roots. So grounded, so protected, we grow."

The others echoed and repeated it with her, kneeling in front of their bowls. They all scooped up some of the plant bits and sprinkled them inside the chalk circle, inside their point of the star. Sally closed her eyes and pressed the palms of her hands to the floor beside her.

Jet held her candle out in both hands, right over the bowl, and the others copied her. Gary squinted and was about to lean forward to get a better look before catching himself. But he'd seen it right – the plant bits they'd thrown around were the fresh bits, and what was left was all dried. He frowned; were the candles supposed to be that close?

"Through fire, our passion, we change," said Jet, and at the same second the five of them tipped their candles and set alight what was left in the bowls. It burned bright, but steady, and Gary suddenly remembered Jet talking about melting wax, and needing some essential oils for it. No wonder her cooking had smelled weird.

"These are our lives; we flicker, we burn, we shine. So loved, we change."

The 'candles' in the bowls kept burning, putting out a fair bit of sweet-smelling smoke that didn't seem to bother any of them. Gary expected to cough, but it didn't happen. It got a bit hazy and he felt a bit lightheaded, but okay.

The ladies kept chanting, repeating about earth and fire and then about mothers and protection, which was the only part he understood. ...Sort of.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was the sea of red and brown heads in front of him that were getting a little bit blurry in the smoke, or just a silly stray thought trying to connect it all, but for a second, Gary felt like he _got_ it. Something about this spell, which all their mothers and grandmothers had been using for a hundred years, right back to the famous Maria – something about this spell was _in_ them. Part of them. His witchy women with their instincts and understanding and how they lived and breathed magic like air, how they were so alike while being so different, wild and protective, fire and earth... He couldn't put it in words, but it made sense. This was part of them. He kinda got it.

Got something, at least.

He smiled. Good enough.


End file.
